"Well, a certain James Moriarty seems to have slipped through our fingers once again," said Mycroft Holmes, looking up from the files on his laptop's screen. "But you did manage to prevent the assassination of the entire German Government. I suppose that's worth something."

"Thank you, sir," said Bond. John was grinning a little behind him, whilst Sherlock looked entirely unimpressed. As always.

"You know, Mycroft, maybe you should take a break from congratulating others on their hard work and start putting in some of you own." Sherlock commented dryly.

Mycroft's voice suddenly grew very cold.

"Meaning what, Sherlock?"

"Meaning, this is not the first time you have been forced to sit back and watch Moriarty get away," said Sherlock, his tone just as cold as his brother's, if with a touch more aggression. "Maybe, brother dearest, you need to start pushing harder and digging further for your evidence before you put the lives of good men on the line to chase shadows for you."

John's eyes were suddenly fixed on Sherlock. It was not often his friend would show such emotion or such care for the lives of others. Sherlock did not meet his gaze, but instead held his icy stare against Mycroft.

"My, my, Sherlock. That's not a hint of sentiment, is it?" asked the older of the Holmes brothers.

"Not at all, Mycroft. I'm just growing ever so concerned that our government isn't doing its job properly. Maybe the secret service is just getting a little too trigger-happy in its old age."

Bond half-smirked. Mycroft didn't seem to appreciate the comment.

"You know, Sherlock, I could have you forcibly removed from the premises."

"No you couldn't."

"Oh. And why not?"

"Because we're already leaving," said Sherlock. "Come on, John. I'll expect the knighthoods in the post by morning."

Mycroft watched narrowly as his brother strode out of the room, followed by Doctor Watson. He hoped he would not soon have to rely on those two again. As soon as the door had closed behind them, he turned his attention back to James Bond.

"Dismissed, 007. We'll speak again in the morning."

Bond nodded and turned to the door. As he reached the threshold, he turned back to face his superior's broad oak desk.

"Did he call you Mycroft, sir?"

"Dismissed, 007," said Mycroft in a much firmer tone.

Bond grinned a little.

"I was starting to wonder what it stood for."